


I'll Never Forget You

by DNACat



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbians, Let's just say Heather McNamara's studying to be a lawyer, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide Attempt, because haha jokes, checks watch, god why do i get so angsty at like, two in the morning wtf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 10:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11553732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DNACat/pseuds/DNACat
Summary: On a cold winter's night, Veronica Sawyer attempts to throw herself off a building. Luckily, one ghost-girl is there to stop her from doing so, and remind her she has so much to live for.M because suicide attempts





	I'll Never Forget You

**Author's Note:**

> Fresh off the press, no editing, written at 2:17 am GMT. 
> 
> If there's any grammar errors, it's for all the above reasons.

“ _Don’t fucking move, Sawyer._ ”

Veronica felt the air whiz past her and turned to face the voice. There stood the ghost of Heather Chandler, still in that scandalously short-robe and her skin a pale-blue. She was leaking a darker-blue from her mouth, and her eyes were blood-shot and instead of being their usual grey, were the same shade of blue as the drain-o she had drank that had been the death of her. Her front teeth were stained blue, and her eyes were crossed. There was slight scabs and cuts from where the glass had shattered and dug into her skin.

“Why are you here? You disappeared from two years, and come back just at the moment I’m about to throw myself off a building?” Veronica hissed at her former best-frenemy.

“I’m here because I fucking know that if you throw your life away, I won’t get to experience life.” Heather Chandler said, taking a step forward, her foot almost falling through the roof.

“Oh it’s all about _you_ isn’t it?” Veronica felt the tears start to pour, as she felt the air rock into her, daring to push her off the edge of the building, “Not about me! Not about the girl who’s seen some shit. It’s about you- Heather fucking Chandler.”

“Of course it’s about you as well,” Heather Chandler growled in response, another step forward making Veronica’s eyes narrow into a glare, “If you throw yourself off this building, you won’t get to live life. We ghosts tend to be granted the chance to see into the future, and as far as I can tell things get better from here.” Heather Chandler said lowly, her eyes boring into Veronica, “I can’t tell you when or why- that’s an unwritten rule- but I promise on my life- death?- that things get better,” Heather Chandler reached out a transparent, glowing hand, “Trust me.”

“Fuck you, Chandler,” Veronica shouted at her, “Why should I believe you now? For all I know you’re only saying this because you can only live through _me_ ,” Veronica crossed her arms, her hands gripping her flesh, “Maybe you’re only keeping me alive because I’m like the one TV show that’s always on, and if I die then you’ll be forced to entertain yourself.” The tears were coming out like a waterfall now, pouring down her face, “But I don’t want to try anymore. I’ve lost contact with almost everybody, all I can think about is you, Ram, Kurt and,” A shaky breath, “ _him_ ,” Veronica inhaled and exhaled deeply, “and how much life _sucks_ because _he_ fucked everything up for me! He _ruined_ me!”

“Veronica, please,” Heather Chandler began to walk forward, hand held out and Veronica almost fell off the edge if she hadn’t steadied herself, “Holy shit, please.”

“Why should I let a ghost coax me into living? Not like anyone else cares about me,” Veronica ducked her head, letting out a choked sob, “The only people I talk to are Martha, Heather and Heather and my parents,” Veronica lifted her head to look up at the stars, “I’m a tiny dot in the grand scheme of things, if I disappeared nobody would notice at all. Nobody would turn up at my funeral, nobody would _care_ ,” Veronica let out a weak whine of misery, “I’m doing _nothing_ with my life. I study, study, study, eat, sleep, pass my exams, and then rinse and repeat.”

Heather Chandler let out a chuckle that bordered into a laugh, “You realize that’s every college-students life? The only difference between some lives are that some of them show up to parties,” Veronica could smell the strong stench of chemicals and felt Heather Chandler basically breathing on her neck- like she was still alive, “You can amount to so much, and once you get out of this _hellhole_ of a college, you can help people like you, people who are mentally ill,” Heather Chandler made a noise like an attempt to breathe- but her lungs were burned so therefore all air just passed right through her, “People like JD.”

The name.

_The name_.

**The name.**

**_His. Name._ **

Veronica let out a wail of distress, clutching her head between her hands and falling backwards, straight through Chandler, as she pictured him standing over her, gun in hand and a twisted expression on his face. He had a bomb strapped to him and the word, ‘GOD’ spray-painted across his face, “Join. Me.” Before there was a loud bang and, ‘KABOOM.’

“Shit, Veronica,” Heather Chandler cursed, kneeling at the living girl’s side as she writhed and wailed, ‘no’ over and over and over, so much so that Chandler’s head filled with it. Images of Veronica screaming and JD aiming a gun, “Veronica, Veronicaaaa!” She screamed, before the brunette opened her eyes, panting heavily, “I need you to breathe, in and out, deep breathes,” Veronica nodded her head and breathed in and out deeply, “Let’s try not to think about . . . him, okay? Let’s think of something positive like, um, you and Martha watching the Princess Bride.”

Veronica instantly began to smile, the heart-warming memories helping her be positive. Memories of Martha cackling with laughter as she tipped a bowl of popcorn over Veronica’s head. Martha shouting, “blasphemy” if Veronica suggested they watching something different other than the Princess Bride. The first movie-night with Heather McNamara, where the poor blond had been jumped by a popcorn-ambush. Heather McNamara pinning Veronica to the couch during said fight as Martha ran to get ammunition, and the two of them blushing before the yellow-girl had clambered off of her. Veronica felt herself blushing at that.

She blinked open her eyes and looked a Chandler, “W-Who knew the Demon Queen Bitch could be so c-comforting?”

Chandler scoffed and rolled her eyes, “It’s called being a decent human fucking being.”

Veronica sat up and rocked slowly, “I fucked everything up.”

“What?” Heather Chandler said, confusion in her voice.

“Between Heather McNamara, and . . .” She paused, gulping looking into the blood-shot blue eyes of Heather Chandler.

Heather Chandler paused. Veronica . . . Veronica couldn’t be talking about _her_ , could she? Surely Veronica Sawyer had higher standards than her? She tried to think back on memories, anything flirty or suggestive that ever happened between them. Anything that could be considered, ‘gay’ or, ‘dyke.’ And only then did the tons of memories hit her. Memories of being mesmerized as Veronica changed at sleepover’s, of Veronica buying her her favourite coffee and dropping it to her at the start of school every day. The one time during a party Heather Chandler had stumbled over some guy on the floor and ended up pinning Veronica against the wall. The way Veronica had blushed, and the feeling she should kiss her that she ignored. The feeling she ignored because being a dyke wasn’t _in_. Wasn’t _okay_. Wasn’t _normal_. Maybe things would’ve gone differently had Chandler kissed Veronica at Ram’s party, and not done the whole, ‘Martha Piñata’ thing.

But that’s not what happened.

She did the ‘Martha Piñata’ thing, Veronica threw up on her shoes, she said Veronica was dead on Monday, Veronica had slept with JD, JD didn’t like Heather, they cooked her up a, ‘permanent hangover cure,’ and she had drank the drain-cleaner and _died._

That’s how things went, that’s how things are.

Veronica was crying now, curled up in a ball on the floor and sobbing miserably. Heather Chandler lay down beside her, looking up at the stars, unable to speak.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound Veronica’s choked sobs and murmurs about suicide and the honking and sounds of cars driving by on the streets below.

Heather Chandler gulped down non-existent spit before Veronica spoke shakily and quietly, “Why . . . why didn’t you kiss me? That time at Ram’s?”

“I-”

“Don’t try to pretend like you didn’t want to,” Veronica let out a breathless laugh, “Your face said it all.”

“I don’t know,” Heather Chandler shuddered uncomfortably, “I had never kissed a girl, and I was scared people would see . . .”

“But if you had,” Veronica said quietly and meekly, “If you had maybe everything would be different. Maybe you wouldn’t be dead, maybe I wouldn’t be suicidal, maybe I wouldn’t be interested in McNamara, maybe JD wouldn’t have died.”

“I know that, Ron,” Heather Chandler sighed before she looked to her right. Veronica was standing beside the ledge of the building, and she got up after her, “What are you doing?”

“Thinking . . .” Veronica said, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the city-sights, her mouth shut tightly and pursed.

“Don’t fucking do it,” Heather Chandler said, like an owner warning their dog not to do something. Like a parent warning their child not to climb over the huge as wall, because of course you’ll break your legs. Or like a teacher trying to warn their students about bullying or cyberbullying. Heather Chandler balled her hands into fists, wishing someone real would come up and fucking help already, “Don’t do it Ron.”

“Is death . . . nice?” Veronica asked Chandler, looking at the ghost curiously.

“No, it’s shit,” Chandler responded, “You’re constantly only slightly hungry and thirsty, you can’t feel anything, you can’t have any effects on the real world . . . and you can’t stop anything.”

Veronica gulped and backed away slowly from the edge, “Chandler, I won’t do it.”

“Thank fuck.” Chandler let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

“On one condition,” Chandler let out a groan. Of course, there was a compromise! Maybe she’d have to break the unwritten rule maybe she’d have to- “Say you love me.”

“W-What?” Heather Chandler stammered out, eyes widening as Veronica repeated her sentence.

“Say: you love me.” Veronica whispered out into the cold night air and Chandler gulped and felt her tongue twist into knots, “Or I’ll throw myself off the roof.”

“I . . .” Chandler gagged on the words. Who knew saying you loved someone was this difficult, “I love you.”

And just as the words came from her mouth the entrance to the roof broke open and Heather McNamara stumbled up the stairs, collapsing as she wailed Veronica’s name like she was in the middle of having sex. Her baby-blues eyes fell onto Veronica and she ran forward, crying and sobbing.

She ran straight through Chandler.

Chandler could feel her run through her.

The solid-girl through her arms around Veronica, sobbing into her shoulder, “Ronnie . . . I love you so much, don’t do that to me again.”

And as Veronica wrapped her arms around Heather McNamara and said the words as well, “I. Love. You.” Heather Chandler felt like she was saying it to both the tiny blond in her arms, and the ghost.

But she wouldn’t get an answer. Because, as if her life-mission had been complete, she felt herself slowly going back to just a pair of eyes watching the brunette as the blond sobbed into her shoulder and the brunette began to cry slightly too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't even that said yet at the end of writing this I was choking up slightly, holy shit.


End file.
